


... butthead

by chewhy



Series: Stray Kids Requests Fills [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Arcades, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prequel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewhy/pseuds/chewhy
Summary: seungmin's brother wants an xbox, seungmin just wants to play DDR, and jisung just wants to be annoyingprequel to [spiegel im spiegel]





	... butthead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beomgyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beomgyu/gifts).



> happy birthday nelly, stray typous misses you~  
> also i know this isn't your otp but you said to write you sungmin fluff for your birthday so, here you go
> 
> (i'm also using this for a tumblr request fill tho shh two birds with one stone ok)

“Seungmin! Come _on_ ,” Seungcheol whines. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late to the arcade!”

 

“Stop whining at me,” Seungmin complains, taking his sweet time tying double knots on his shoelaces. “Aren’t you supposed to be the older one?”

 

Seungcheol doesn’t bother to respond with more than some aggressive foot tapping and a glare thrown Seungmin’s way. 

 

“Whatever. It’s not like anybody’s waiting for you at the arcade. I’m ready now,” Seungmin finishes, straightening up and grabbing his bag. 

 

Seungcheol scoffs, “Actually, my friends are waiting. And show some respect, I’m your hyung.”

 

Seungmin follows his brother out, mumbling curses under his breath as he struggles to right his bike before finally kicking it in rage. When Seungcheol only rolls his eyes and starts to bike off, Seungmin panics for a moment, shouting, “Hyung! Wait!” as he clambers on quickly, suffering a small scrape to his knee. 

 

He bikes furiously to catch up and is fuming the entire way to the arcade. When they get there, Seungmin just shoves his bike off to the side before storming in, and Seungcheol has to lock it up on his behalf with a roll of his eyes. “Kids these days,” he mutters, as if he himself isn’t also a child. 

 

Inside, Seungcheol just nods to Seungmin quickly before they run off, Seungmin over to the DDR section and Seungcheol off to shoot some monsters or aliens or something. 

 

Over by the DDR machine, there’s a small group of older kids playing around on the highest difficulty level, missing all of the steps. Seungmin watches them with amusement and the tiniest bit of haughty pride, knowing that he’s much, much better considering all of his hours of practice while waiting for Seungcheol to finish up his games. 

 

The kids finish up, and Seungmin is just about to go up to slot a few coins into the slot when suddenly some other kid his age runs up and takes his spot. 

 

“What the heck?” Seungmin says, shoving the kid aside. “I was clearly in line.”

 

“What’s your problem?” the kid asks, shoving Seungmin back. “I got the coins in first, butthead. Not my fault you’re slow.”

 

Seungmin huffs, even angrier now. “Really? You’re going to call me a butthead?”

 

“Yeah,” the kid says. “Because you are. Butthead.”

 

Seungmin opens his mouth to retaliates, then sighs and shakes his head. He will be the bigger man, and he graciously steps aside to wait his turn again as the kid snickers at him, turning back to the machine to pick a song. 

 

Seungmin watches him pick out a song and snickers to himself as the kid chooses the most difficult song at the expert level. He knows there’s no way the kids going to get more than twenty seconds through the song before failing out from past experience, but then he watches the determination course through his body, he watches the tight grip he has on the back bars, he realizes he’s watching a real professional. Or, at least as professional as a seven-year-old kid in an arcade can get. 

 

Seungmin watches with wide eyes and a mouth ready to catch flies, eyes barely able to keep up with how fast the kid moves on the machine. Before he knows it, the song is over and the kid is flouncing in front of Seungmin, victorious with his A+ score.

 

“Hah! You see? I bet you couldn’t beat that, butthead,” the kid says, and Seungmin snaps his mouth shut.

 

“Whatever, you’re like, six,” Seungmin mutters.

 

“I’m not! I’m nine years old thanks a lot, butthead.”

 

“What?” Seungmin says, shocked. The kid is way too short to be a nine year old. He only comes up to Seungmin’s ears, maybe. And Seungmin is short for nine years old, even though he’d never admit it, which means that this kid has to be like, five or something. And so he tells him so, “You’re not nine, I’m nine!”

 

“You know more than one person can be nine, idiot,” the kid says. “Now I’m playing again,” he turns back to the machine, hand hovering to slot in another coin when Seungmin jumps forward. 

 

“No, it’s my turn!” Seungmin says, shoving the kid aside. He thrusts his token in, but that doesn’t stop the other bully from shoving him back and pushing a random button on the screen. “What? Hey, I hate that song!” 

 

“Too bad, loser, guess you have to dance it now. Unless you want to let me dance?” the kid says, blinking sweetly at Seungmin. Oh, how Seungmin wishes he could punch that smile off of his face.

 

“No. My token, my dance.” With a strength and determination that he’s only seen on his brother’s face when challenged to eat five foot long hot dogs in one sitting, he steps up to the board. Time passes in a blur as his feet move all over the pad and finally, he finishes, fist pumped up in the air as he celebrates. “Take that!”

 

“Oh nice moves,” the kid holds out his hand, ready for a high five.

 

“Oh, um, sure. Thanks,” Seungmin says, reaching to grab the kid’s hand when suddenly he swerves and dabs instead. 

 

“Haha sike! See you next time, loser!” he yells, running off to his mom. 

 

“My name’s not loser! It’s Seungmin, dumb butt!” Seungmin calls. He would stomp his foot, too, but he’s broken out of that habit after Seungcheol made fun of him telling him he looked like a bratty girl. 

 

“And I’m Jisung, loser,” the kid, Jisung, shouts, turning around one last time to stick out his tongue at Seungmin before disappearing between the machines of the arcade. 

 

Seungmin shakes his head, trotting off to blow his tickets on the rigged claw machine. He gets two rubber duckies, and names one Jisung. 

 

—

 

Somehow, over the course of the month that Seungcheol spends forcing Seungmin to follow him along in his pursuits to win an Xbox by gathering all 200,000 tickets necessary to trade, Seungmin finds himself becoming friends with Jisung. Or well, as close as two boys who still only call each other dumb butt and loser can get, he supposes. 

 

They still try to outscore each other on the DDR machine, until a parent waiting in line behind them yells at them to stop hogging it so that their spoiled prissy child gets a chance, after which they run to the claw machine and try to push it over. Once they get in trouble for that, too, Jisung’s mom comes over and buys them both some popsicles so that they’ll sit down and stop causing headaches all over. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Han,” Seungmin smiles, all sweetness and smiles whenever a parent walks by. 

 

When Jisung rolls his eyes and mutters, “Ew, you’re so fake,” he earns himself a hard scuff on the back of his neck as his mother smiles down at Seungmin. 

 

“Jisung, you really should learn some manners from your new friend here. I’m taking away that popsicle until you say thank you,” she scolds, all while cooing at Seungmin as he smiles, teeth stained red from the cherry flavoring. 

 

“Thanks, mom,” Jisung mutters before grabbing Seungmin’s hand to run back off into the arcade. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

“Okay,” Seungmin says, toddling off after him. “Bye Mrs. Han!”

 

Seungmin is content, to say the least.

 

—

 

Another month passes, and Seungcheol stops coming to the arcade so that he can stay home and play on his XBox. On a random afternoon when he’s feeling kind of nice, and also decides that maybe he can win some more games with tickets, he takes Seungmin back to the arcade. 

 

There, standing at the DDR machine, as usual, is Jisung.

 

“Hey, butthead!” Seungmin shouts, running up to the kid. “You’re taller, no way!”

 

“Shut up, where have you been, loser?” Jisung says punching Seungmin in the shoulder. It hurts a bit more than he expected. 

 

“My brother is too old for arcade games now apparently. Sounds like a loser to me, sitting at home all day. He hasn’t got any friends, though, so we should be sorry for him,” Seungmin says, all the while looking around to make sure that Seungcheol actually isn’t around to hear him. 

 

“Oh. But then what do you do then,” Jisung asks as they make their way over to the skeeball machines. 

 

“I usually just read, and, uh, sing,” Seungmin says. There’s a pause, and Seungmin kind of wishes he hadn’t said it. “It’s like, whatever. My brother says it’s a sissy thing, I just get bored sometimes, my mom used to sing before she got busy with work so like—“

 

“Hey, that’s so cool!” Jisung cuts him off. They tend to do that, cutting into each other’s conversations mercilessly, just as they push each other off the DDR mat or punch the machine to throw off the pinball. Seungmin likes to think that it’s kind of their thing. 

 

“Really?” Seungmin asks. “I’ve actually never told anybody before but, I think I want to be a singer.”

 

Jisung nodes enthusiastically, completely missing the holes as the ball ricochets off the side of the machine and comes bouncing back to them. “Our family actually owns the karaoke place down the block, do you wanna go sometime? My sister literally spends all her time there, she thinks she’s going to be a singer but she’s really, really bad, I’m sure you’re a lot better— Woah!” Jisung ducks down as Seungmin’s toss goes a little too far to the left and directly into Seungmin’s side. 

 

“Wait, really?” Seungmin says, no longer concerned about the scores flickering on the screen.

 

“Yeah, so long as you don’t kill me first,” Jisung answers. “Now hand me my ball, I still have three shots left. Also, you can pay me with all the tickets you earn today.”

 

—

 

Jisung’s mom makes Jisung give back Seungmin’s tickets because the karaoke rooms are open to Jisung’s friends for free. Jisung pouts but gets over it pretty quickly as he punches in some rap song with way too many expletives to be appropriate for their age. 

 

As he mumbles rap lyrics that go by too fast for him to repeat properly, Seungmin laughs and claps along to the beat. As the song finishes, Jisung runs over and throws the mic at Seungmin’s face.

 

“Ow! You almost hit me, loser!”

 

“Whatever,” Jisung says, pulling over the book. “Pick a song, it’s your turn. And don’t sing Taylor Swift or I’m telling my mom to kick you out.”

 

“Okay, I wouldn’t have anyway,” Seungmin mutters, punching in some numbers. (He actually would have, but he doesn’t want to risk it quite yet.)

 

As he sings, he closes his eyes and sways along to the beat, humming with the instrumentals between verses. Once the song finishes, there’s a long silence, and he’s almost afraid to open his eyes and see Jisung’s reaction. 

 

He opens one eye at time, slowly, and looks up to see Jisung seated on the couch still, mouth hanging wide open. “Was it that bad?” Seungmin asks.

 

Jisung just shakes his head slowly. 

 

“Well, close your mouth,” Seungmin says, going back over to drink some of the orange juice Jisung’s mother had brought them. 

 

“Dude.”

 

“What.”

 

“You are. Really. Good.”

 

“Oh. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Seungmin sniffles a little bit to fill up the silence. 

 

“A billion times better than my sister.”

 

Seungmin laughs, punching Jisung’s shoulder lightly. It’s more of just a nudge, really. “That’s mean.”

 

“Whatever, it’s a compliment you idiot,” Jisung says, pulling the remote back over to him. “Now sing _Nobody_ with me!”

 

“What? I can’t sing Taylor Swift but Wonder Girls is allowed?”

 

“Fine, you can sing Taylor Swift but if I get a higher score, you owe me sixty tickets.”

 

“Bet.”

 

—

 

“Mom, I’m home!” Seungmin calls as he gets home from karaoke. Mrs. Han had given him a ride back, and Jisung and Seungmin had sung along to the radio all the way back.

 

“Seungmin!” his mother’s voice calls from the kitchen, and he knows from just those two syllables that he’s in trouble, even though he isn’t sure what he’s done wrong.

 

“Uh, hi mommy,” Seungmin says, scooting his butt over to the kitchen. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“Where have you been all day? Your brother was supposed to be watching you!” her arms are crossed as she stands by the counter, and Seungmin doesn’t recall seeing her so upset before.

 

“I was with Jisung, at karaoke,” Seungmin mutters meekly.

 

One of her eyebrows raise, and Seungmin knows it was the wrong answer. “And you didn’t think to tell anybody?”

 

“I told Seungcheol when we left the arcade!” Seungmin answers defensively. He really had, it wasn’t his fault that Seungcheol was too busy shooting monsters or something to notice. 

 

“What? KIM SEUNGCHEOL,” she yells, and Seungmin isn’t sure whether he should be sorry for throwing his brother under the bus or grateful that the attention has been turned off of himself. There’s a thundering of footsteps as Seungcheol makes his way down the stairs, earbuds still dangling from his ears. 

 

“What?” It’s the wrong thing to say with the wrong attitude at this moment. 

 

“You did not tell me that you and your brother were at the arcade today. Is that all you’ve been doing these past few months? Going to the arcade when you get the chance? You should have been at home, studying!” As their mother goes on a tirade, Seungmin goes to inch out the door and back up to his room. Sadly, he is spotted by the danger before he can escape. “And you young man, don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

 

“Sorry, mom.” Meek is definitely the way to go when their mother is angry. 

 

“I wanted to talk to both of you anyway. Your father has gotten a promotion, so we’re moving to America. Both of you are grounded for the next few weeks, and you can use this time to pack.”

 

“What?!” Seungmin and his brother both speak at the same time, arguing as they try to protest.

 

“Both of you, be quiet and go to your rooms.” 

 

“Okay, mom.”

 

They bump shoulders as they run up the stairs, shoving at each other as they each say, “It’s your fault, no, it’s _your_ fault!”

 

That’s the last day that Seungmin sees Jisung. 

 

—

 

As Seungmin stands in the middle of his sparsely furnished apartment, boxes stacked all over, he shrugs a little smile. It’s strange to be back in his home country after so many years, and he wonders if he’ll even be able to assimilate as he tries to shrug off the American habits that have been so embedded into his shoulders from living the entirely of his teenage years there. 

 

He’s here now though, part-time jobs as an English tutor and vocal trainer tucked under his belts as he heads out to whatever auditions he can and submits his headshot and portfolio to any agencies he comes across. It’s not much, but it’s a start and he’ll make of it what he can. 

 

There’s just one thing that he needs to do. 

 

Crouching down, he digs through some boxes until he comes across a stack of papers that he’d been looking for. Inside, he pulls out a little Photobooth polaroid from an arcade that’s probably shut down by now. It’s enough for now, and he mentally traces the path that he’d always taken with his brother day after day on his bikes.

 

As he walks down the street, he looks around and notices just how much this city has changed in the years that he’s been gone. Newer, shinier buildings have been built up around him, and people seem to walk at a faster pace. 

 

Before he knows it, he’s reached his destination. Seungmin walks up the steps slowly, excited even though he’s not expecting much. 

 

“Hello, welcome to K-Sing! How may we help you!” a chirpy voice calls from the front desk. Somehow, Seungmin recognizes it. 

 

“I didn’t think you’d still be here after all these years.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Hi, Jisung. It’s me. Seungmin. I still owe you those tickets, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> read the sequel [[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259102)] 
> 
> find me on [[twitter](https://twitter.com/2jaepg)] and [[tumblr](http://busanjeongin.tumblr.com/)]!  
> kudos and comments always appreciated  
>  
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/R6R27QMR)


End file.
